A Very Supernatural Halloween
by lailamoonchild
Summary: Drunk Dean decides they should celebrate Halloween. Sleep-deprived Sam agrees to finally get some shut-eye. Of course there is a catch, one gets to pick the other's costume. Who'll have the last laugh?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Sadly, I don't own the show, the boys or the network. If I did, season 4 wouldn't have been so depressing. This fic only came to life because I felt compelled to put the boys in ridiculous outfits. Anything to cheer me up.

**Another warning:** Vague spoilers for season 3. This story contains curse words and dangerous nonsense.

**I'd like to thank my wonderful Betas:** Jennifer & MagicianMana, although I was kinda eager to post this so if you spot mistakes that's because I couldn't wait.

+#+

+#+

Sam heard Dean fumble with the keys, heard the familiar clang of metal on metal, but that wasn't what roust him out of bed.

He swore he'd heard Dean's heavy footsteps ever since he'd set the boots on the first step of the creaky staircase. It was nice not to be staying in a motel or the car for a night, but what had been a cozy-looking place from the outside rapidly turned out to be more of a haywire memory of better times with some dust bunnies sprinkled on top of it.

Seeing as the owner usually had the place to herself, she probably hadn't found it necessary to do anything about the condition the building was in. She hadn't wanted to have subtenants since her husband had died; he'd been the one to do all the renovations and she didn't feel up to dealing with lodgers anymore. This and much more than he'd ever wanted to hear was found out by Sam while she waved Polaroid pictures at him, some of them so devoid of color you couldn't even make out the faces of the photographed.

Dean had excused himself thirty minutes into the ordeal by telling the old lady he would have to head out for some serious investigation.

Sam had huffed and crossed his arms, which, at least to everyone able to understand Sam-and-Dean speak, signaled blatantly that he knew full well the only thing Dean was going to investigate would be the bottom of a series of beer bottles.

Apparently Dean was back, trying to drunkenly sneak back in, what with stealth being his middle name and him being 'velvety smooth'. Since Sam was awake already he was going to take his sweet time listening to Dean cursing under his breath while entangling his fingers in what had to be Dean's attempt at key-origami.

"Sam? I know you're in there, man! I'm so going to kick your ass!"

Sam chuckled, propping his chin up in his hands, and shot an amused look at the door. "Yeah? How are you gonna do that?"

"I'm serious, Sam. Don't think I can't!"

Sam sighed, pulled back the duvet and sat up. The damn parquet floor wasn't just loud, it was also cold. He made a beeline for the door, yanked it open as fast as he could –

and almost fell as he suddenly had an armful of Dean, who had been leaning against the wing.

Dean smirked up at him, always the cocky son of a bitch, and fucking _winked_ as Sam pried him off. "I woulda had it open in a minute there…"

Sam scowled and shuffled over to his bed, burying himself under the blankets.

"Whatever Dean, just shut up and lemme sleep."

Sam's feet were back to normal and he was almost drifting off by the time Dean came out of the bathroom. Other people fell right into bed when they were this drunk but not Dean.  
Dean brushed his teeth, flossed, gargled… He couldn't get a key in a hole, but he managed to _floss_.

"Hey Sam? Are you asleep?"

Sam groaned and tucked the blankets over his head.  
"Yeah, Dean, I'm asleep. No use talking to me."

He heard Dean settling down in his own bed, the rustling of the comforter, the inevitable drunken pillow plumping – yeah blame it on the pillow that the room is spinning- the eventual contented sigh and then… blissful silence.

"Saaaam?"

For god's sake! "What, Dean?"

"Let's do Halloween this year."  
"Are you high?"

The real question was what if he wasn't. What if this was another one of _I'm-not-as-think-as-you-drunk-I-am_-Dean's irrevocable plans?

"Sorry, Mr. Crankypants, didn't know having fun was a breach of the peace."

Sam sighed. "So now we do Halloween all of a sudden?"

"What's the matter Sam, afraid there's gonna be clowns?"

"Hilarious."

"I mean, why shouldn't we? We're old enough to tell the real monsters from the Adam's family I guess. Although that zombie chick was kinda on the border line there."

Sam bit his lip and nodded, feeling awkward all of a sudden.  
The last Halloween he'd celebrated was with Jess and he still remembered what she'd said to him when he asked her what he'd do without her. 'Crash and burn.'  
He heard Dean turn to his side and could feel his brother's stare on him more than see it.

"I'm thinking we could do Halloween just once. I get to pick your costume, you pick mine.

"Forget it, Dean."

"So you're too chicken-shit to take me up on it?"

"No, I just don't do Halloween. And you don't either. But if you really wanna go, why don't you find yourself a girl, or you know what, find two girls and have 'em go as the Doublemint twins or whatever you're into. Just don't involve me."

"So you _are_ too chicken-shit."

"If I say yes, will you let me sleep?"

Dean turned to his belly, a sure sign that he thought he'd won the argument and was going to get some sleep soon.  
"A hundred bucks you won't wear it."

This was a lost case and he should have seen it coming. There was no reasoning with Dean when he was like this, but then again Dean never really listened to reason – he usually just turned up the volume and sang along.

"I could always pick something uglier."

"I doubt that, Sammy. But I'll count that as a yes."

Sam huffed and finally went to sleep.

+#+


	2. Chapter 2

When Sam got up, Dean was still conked out, star fishing across the entire bed. He managed to tread silently, avoiding the lose floor boards, and just took the time for a quick catlick (A1).  
Dean would be up in a few and although he'd be pissy and hungover he'd want to leave town today.

They'd been at Miriam's for three days now and although she was a nice old lady there was only so much of nice old lady and nice old house Dean could bear before getting antsy.  
She was actually an old friend of Ellen's so they'd officially been put on a job for once. She'd invited them to stay after they'd gotten rid of a nix for her.

A few drops of Sam's blood and the thing had gone wild, it had pulled Dean into the water and thrown him around six ways from Sunday till Sam could gank it.  
He'd always hoped that if they ran into a nix it would be somewhere warm, or at least it would happen in the summer. Caldwell, Idaho in October had been at the very end of his wish list.

Since they'd been low on cash and pretty beat-up they'd agreed to bunk with Miriam for a few days, more precisely until Dean had poker luck and came home stinking drunk, hence the human debris currently draped over the bed closest to the door.

Back in the room he quickly threw on a few layers –up here it wasn't just useful to cushion his fall if he got in a fight- grabbed his wallet from the nightstand and strapped a knife to his leg. Back in Stanford he'd thought he'd be safe if he stopped hunting but he'd only become defenseless and lulled by all the stepfordy normalcy until…

He swallowed, pulling the door shut. No messages from Bobby or Ellen, which meant they could either drive around until they liked a place enough to stop or he could find them a hunt. Since Miriam didn't have wi-fi he'd have to go to a café for that anyway, so Dean wouldn't suspect anything.

After he'd had at least three black coffees –'cause the mornings after Dean had kept him up with drunken snoring all night just called for extreme measures- he flipped open his notebook and actually got some work done, before searching for what he needed online.

Sam found what he was looking for on a website called mardiqueen(dot)com.

He was sure Dean had never seen so much pink in his life, it was the teethrotting kind of sweet that made women call their daughter's their little princesses. In fact, it actually came with a tiara and a pink magic wand with a star on it. Fun times.

Just why they even produced Dean-sized costumes of this particular style and who bought stuff like that apart from poor guys who were dragged out of Stanford to get drowned in water that was cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey kinda escaped him.

He paid with John Beck's credit card and typed in the address of the lockbox closest to their next hunt. He'd just go out for coffee and donuts and stash it away while Dean was in the shower. For once he'd let Dean use up all the hot water and not say anything when he came out with one of those freaking shower turbans. He'd have time to laugh later.

He bought a few of those palm-sized chocolate chip cookies and started eating while he made his way back to Miriam's. Dean was probably up by now and even when Dean had an upset stomach it was ill-advised to leave food around him.

+#+

"Hey Sammy, find something?"

Sam eyed his brother suspiciously but closed the door behind him, one arm pressing the bag of greasy take-out he'd mercifully decided to get Dean closer to his chest.

"Christo!"

Dean rolled his eyes, slinging the towel he'd draped around his shoulders over a chair to put on a shirt. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Yeah, I can see that. Scary fine."

"So long on the road with me and you still don't understand the awesomeness that is Dean Winchester?"

Dean winked and grabbed the bag from him, prying it open and inhaling deeply. "Miriam actually brought me coffee and homemade bagels, but I second the decision for a burger in the morning."

"Dude, you're gross."

"Whatever, Mr. Rabbitfood. I left you some bagels."

Sam shucked off his jacket and sat down on the bed to eat his bagel. Maybe they should stay another day, he'd happily listen to more stories if that meant they'd get a home-cooked meal and he'd get to sleep in fresh linen for one more night.

"I know what you're thinking, man, but we're not staying," Dean said between bites, trying to get his hamster cheeks to move around to forming the words. "We should hit the road, maybe go somewhere warmer for Halloween."

Sam grunted in response and tossed him some notes he'd taken at the café.

A guy in Glendale had gone completely MIA for two years and come back saying he didn't remember a thing. Started killing his neighbors one by one and worked his way through to his ex-affair till the police stopped him. Just another case of "the voices made me do it" that might or might not lead them closer to Lilith.

"So what are we thinking? Shapeshifter? Demon riding piggy-back?"

"I dunno but I guess it's worth checking out, right?"

Dean nodded and balled up the take-out bag to three-point it into the trash can.

+#+

* * *

A1: My Betas told me that "quick catlick" might cause some confusion. It simply means rushing things in the bathroom a little, no use of glitzy products aso... just splash a little water in your face and you're good to go.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean looked over at his brother, broad chest sagging against the window, long legs folded up. When Sam was tired enough to actually fall asleep in the car there was a good chance he'd nod off right away once his head hit the pillow.

With Sam fast asleep he could steal out of the motel room and be back before he noticed. He'd done some quick research of his own before he suggested the whole Halloween idea to Sam, so he knew what he wanted to buy.

He'd used their last pit stop – which Sam had thankfully slept through- to get a new lockbox. All he needed was a little privacy and w-LAN so he could get Sam the costume of doom.

He decided to gun the engine as soon as they were out of the black ice area, let his baby throb to life like she was supposed to. He just hoped they'd make it to Humboldt Lake before dusk just in case the next motel didn't have wi-fi.

+#+

Sam was mumbling under his breath, nothing Dean could make out but it sounded like he was in pain. Reaching over to nudge his shoulder, Dean fishtailed for a second. "Sammy."

Sam's head shot up. "Whaa?"

"Navigator isn't supposed to fall asleep. Where are we?"

Sam rummaged around in the glove compartment for the map and almost tore the pages as he unfolded it hastily. Looking around to check where they were, he cleared his throat and shook his bangs out of his eyes.

"'S the right road. "

"No shit, Sherlock."

Sam scowled and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "We still stopping at the border?"

"That sonuvabitch threw me around like a rag doll so unless you wanna drive, yeah, we're stopping in two hours."

"So your back's still hurting?"

"My back is fine, Sam," Dean replied snappishly, earning him one of Sam's questioning looks.

+#+

Sam looked over at Dean who was slightly more hunched over the steering wheel than seemed comfortable. "So, old man, want me to get the room?"

Wincing when he raised his right arm from the wheel, Dean flipped him the bird. "You know what I'll buy with the hundred bucks you owe me? Itching powder. A lifetime supply."

Sam chuckled as he got out of the car. "You wish, gampy. I don't owe you anything. Since I'm getting the room I get dibs on the first shower, too."

Dean didn't protest when Sam came back to unload the trunk and got both their duffels out. He sauntered after him, absently worrying at the part of his leather jacket where he could feel his shoulder throbbing.

It was dark by now, the motel's neon signs bathed everything in a cobalt blue light that just served to underline the fact that it was still pretty freaking cold.  
He'd seen a pizza joint up on the main street and although he could never remember his exorcisms when he needed it the most, he was a lot better with numbers.  
He just wanted to order something cartwheel-sized and annoy Sam to death by eating it on his little brother's bed while he took a shower.

Sam would whine on about having to sleep on crumbs and that in itself was damn near perfect, only outdone by the knowledge that while Sam showered he would order what he'd been looking at before he got hammered in Caldwell.

Peering over Sam's shoulder while he opened the door, Dean was surprised not to find the generic fleabag furnishings he'd expected.  
There were two beds with Bordeaux red bedspreads that actually looked big enough for Sam, a beige carpet that looked freshly cleaned and a set of charcoal paintings that probably showed the lake panorama.  
Only the fake ivory chandelier looked a little tacky, apart from that the room was a nice exception to the rule.

Sam walked in, threw Dean's duffel on the bed closest to the door without question, dropped his own on the other bed and went straight for the bathroom.

In rooms like this they sometimes gave the little shampoo and conditioner bottles a shot; in worse places they used their own products. Dean figured he'd have at least twenty minutes till Sam resurfaced so he fished the laptop out of his brother's duffel and, not bothering to take off his boots, slowly settled on Sam's bed.

After ordering a pizza for each of them, he snapped it open and typed in what little he remembered of the link.

There it was, exactly what he was searching for. Two left clicks and the page was loading.

"Secretseduction(dot)com, experience your secret fantasies." The speakers blared out and a pop-up promised him that his girlfriend was going to love this. He coughed, trying to suppress a hysteric laughing fit. Sam would hear him in the bathroom and the re-run of Bones didn't explain that kind of reaction.

The lustrous, semi-transparent, baby blue fabric alone was embarrassing enough but the general view was just priceless. He had no fucking clue what tulle was and he couldn't care less that it was hand wash only; they were only gonna wear this once in their life, preferably when they were really, really drunk.

He hit the order button and chuckled softly. This was worth it. He was fairly sure that even when he was in hell Sam would always remember the day his brother made him celebrate Halloween.

+#+


	4. Chapter 4

It wouldn't have been their life if it had actually been sunny in Glendale when they arrived. It was warm though, which, according to Dean, made the lukewarm downpour feel like God was pissing down on you.

It was still early in the afternoon when they rolled through the quiet street and came to a stop in front of the house where Matthew Fields had lived, before he'd decided to go kill his immediate neighbors, including the dog, and then a good part of the other home owners on the residential street.

"Never seen so many closed curtains in my life," Dean muttered under his breath as he got out of the car and glanced around.

Sam nodded, fiddled with his tie for a moment and smoothed the collar of his suit. "Neither have they, I guess. Seems like quite the neighborhood."

"Yeah, until the Gremlins come out," Dean said over his back, taking the stairs in one step.

The few people they'd seen on the street looked devastated, downcast eyes and stony faces.  
The woman opening the door to them, however, looked perfectly normal, phone pinched between cheek and shoulder, looking up at them questioningly.

"Uh, hi -"

"Hold on," she held up a finger and took the phone in one hand.  
"Sharon, sweetie, I don't know a thing about shortcrust, but yeast dough should do just fine."

Dean shot him a surprised look.

"Of course honey, any time. Listen, I gotta go, I think the police are back for another interview."

Dean turned around again, raising an appreciative brow. She seemed to be quick on the uptake.

Rolling her eyes, she just ended the call without another sentence and took a step back.  
"Sorry about that, she just goes on and on. So officers, how can I help you?"

"Actually Ma'am, we're not with the police, we're FBI agents, looking into your husband's disappearance."

Her eyes widened. "Well, I wouldn't call it a disappearance. He'll be cremated next week."

Sam cleared his throat, stuffing his hands into his pockets. This woman was definitely a little too OK with talking about her husband's death.  
"Yeah, naturally, we know that, it's just that we were hoping you could inform us as to why he came back after two years."

She nodded and walked them over to her living room.

"Have a seat," she said, motioning towards a black leather couch dominating the living room. "I'll be right back."

When she returned, balancing a tray with three cups of steaming coffee, they heard laughter from upstairs.  
So the kids were home, which meant they would have to keep it down, unless they took after their Mom and were all smiles and hospitality after their dad had died.

"So, Mrs. Fields, we heard your husband came back just a week ago…"

+#+

Sam trailed out after his brother, glancing back only once to catch that eerie half-smile still plastered on her face.

"Did you find something at Miss Sunshine's? I mean other than the lockbox she keeps her heart in?"

Sam huffed. "Not really. I couldn't exactly sneak around while the kids were up there. I saw a weird pendant, though."

"Weird how?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know yet, I haven't seen it before. Could be our thing, or maybe _Claire_'s just got bored of pink and went a little black magic this season."

Dean scrunched up his face. "Dude, I don't wanna know about your little adventures in princess land."

Sam scowled and ducked his head as he got into the car.

"No wonder the guy had an affair. I bet his marriage was all caring and sharing," Dean whispered more to himself.

Sam nodded and dragged his lower lip between his teeth.

"Way I see it, the case is clear. Anyone who lives with that woman for more than a day is bound to go on some kind of kamikaze trip eventually," Dean said off-handedly.

"When's it ever been that easy? "

"Yeah. Still, he was on some kinda trip."

+#+

Sam was salting the windows of their room.  
It wasn't exactly as anonymous as the places they usually liked to rent but in smaller towns the alternatives were limited, plus, as far as they and the weather signs could tell, there was no demon in town that wanted them gutted, anyway.

"Okay, so first thing tomorrow I'll go check out that weird pendant. I already sent an MMS to Bobby, maybe he knows something."

Dean smirked. "Yeah, you go stir things up in the library… I'll check out the affair."

Sam shook his head, smiling. Dean was just incorrigible. Usually he'd at least complain about having to do all the work, but not today.  
Dean deserved a little fun and besides, if Dean went over to the witness's house while he was at the library, he could make a quick stop on his way home and pick up Dean's costume.

He didn't delude himself into thinking Dean wouldn't be doing the same, but going alone still had the advantage of not having to lie to Dean. He sucked at it; always had, always would.

"Hey Sam," Dean said, spreading out his gun collection on the table to give them a once over. Sam stepped behind him, leaned the bag of salt against the table leg and took the Colt in his hands, palming it reverently. "Yeah?"

Dean looked up, glancing at his brother almost caressing the weapon.  
"You two could get a room, you know?"

Sam cleared his throat and put the Colt back on the table.  
"You were saying?"

Dean gave him a slack grin. "I'm just wondering… All these years we've wanted a part of those lives. Remember what Dad called 'em?"

Sam looked down, avoiding his brother's eyes.  
He knew that tone, it was exactly like Dean had sounded when he'd talked about his Djinn induced hallucinations. "Rearview lives."

"Yeah." Dean put down the gun he was working on and got up, balling the cleaning rag up in his fist. "I guess we were lucky to get to drive away." With that, he made his way to the bathroom.

Sam sat down on the chair Dean had been occupying and continued cleaning the guns. "Yeah, real lucky," he said to himself, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and gun oil.


End file.
